A Snake, Before the Gathering Storm
by TimeLoopedPowerGamer
Summary: A Slytherin does not cavort around the school with idlers and troublemakers. A Slytherin carefully plots and plans. A Slytherin judges others based on the quality of their minds and the content of their ambitions, not their blood. Harry is a very good Slytherin indeed. But not all is well at Hogwarts. First year one-shot, possible future story seed, SlytherinHarry, soft AU.


**A Snake, Before the Gathering Storm****  
**by _TimeLoopedPowerGamer_

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter.

_See below for notes._

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Defense class started boring and incomprehensible and only got worse. It was so bad, it gave him migraines. Thank Merlin for Tracy and her secretly owled-in bottle of Muggle aspirin. Harry had expected better, especially after his first Potions class, but Hogwarts seemed to be all about low, or at least random, teaching standards. Compared to his previous school experience, that was saying something.

Malfoy wouldn't shut up about not being allowed to attend some Dark-Arts-happy Norwegian school, Doom-something. He wasn't allowed because his father was the chairman of the Board of Governors at Hogwarts, and that would be just too embarrassing for the family. Harry wept no tears at his least-favorite roommate's troubles, and wondered if the little turd realized the condition of Hogwarts reflected, at least partially, on his dad. What an idiot.

The rest of the classes were fairly informative (even the one minus a warm, breathing teacher), but professor interactions with students were very limited. There was what basically amounted to gardening (too easy) and skywatching (an excuse to stay up late and relax). Charms was fun and funny, and Transfigurations was worth all the time under the gimlet eye of the scariest women he'd ever met. She always seemed to be staring at him, for some reason. Even during meals.

The adults all appeared to ignore the children outside of class or the very occasional drive-by punishing of minor infringements in the halls. No one-on-one instruction or office hours – except maybe for Malfoy. Other, older children were tasked with keeping the peace and informing on their fellow students. But it didn't add up. There was something wrong.

The castle was huge, but there were only a couple of hundred students total. Large sections Hogwarts were virtually empty. There was only one teacher per class subject, for all seven years. Mr. Filch, Madam Pomfrey, and the Headmaster were the only adults in the castle who didn't teach classes, and they all apparently had full-time jobs of their own. Which left the others very, very busy. Too busy to actually interact with the students on a daily basis. Mr. Hagrid kept the grounds, but didn't spend much time in the castle. No other support staff were evident.

Harry had only seen Professor Snape, the most hands-on of his teachers, once in the Slytherin common room at the beginning of term. The other teachers were even more distant. They didn't even notice that poor, loud little mouse amongst the Lions who kept getting harassed by her own House – until she went missing and was nearly killed by a troll on Halloween night.

That had been the anniversary of the night Harry's parents were killed, as Malfoy kept pointing out the week after the useless Defense professor's failure to do his job almost cost a girl her life. (Wasn't he an expert on trolls, and the Defense professor? Why would he run from one, instead of handling the situation?) And maybe Harry was next, the ponce had suggested, adding that trolls preferred the taste of Muggle, so Harry should watch out he wasn't "half-eaten" himself. Harry then tripped Malfoy into a suit of armor and received his third detention for fighting in the halls.

Rumors were the girl, Hermione, was Muggle-born, obnoxiously smart, and that her Muggle parents had almost pulled her from the school entirely. No solid information on why they didn't. Maybe she loved magic as much as Harry did, and had thrown a fit. Despite everything, he'd have done the same.

She had quietly showed up in class again a week later, with the left side of her face bandaged up, a limp, and a scary look in her remaining eye. Maybe Professor McGonagall had some competition brewing on that front.

Harry ignored most of his House-mate's idiotic talk. His mom had apparently been both Muggle-born and a powerful, skilled witch. Hermione was a witch, and that was all that mattered. She had magic, brains, and the willpower study enough to be near the top of all of her classes. Harry understood that sort of drive and focus.

Having that lace-trimmed pounce constantly saying nasty things about anyone not provably "pure" rubbed him the wrong way. And reminded him of dark things from his Muggle school's history classes: cloth stars, ID tattoos, and boxcar trains full of innocent people.

They way Hermione had levitated a fellow student's book bag in front of him when that Bludger went rogue and chased him around the crowded stands during the Slytherin vs. Gryffindor game certainly proved she knew her stuff. Slytherin had caught the Snitch seconds later and won, so it wasn't like she'd interfered with the game or anything. Malfoy didn't see it that way, of course.

Clearly obsessed, the blond menace had somehow gotten her in trouble after the winter break, and she'd ended up spending what sounded like a very scary and very late detention in the Forbidden Forest with Mr. Hagrid. That was the same week the poor man's cottage had burned down. The whole thing was odd and shrouded in rumor and mystery, which seemed to be the natural habitat for Gryffindors.

But between a rampaging troll, possible arson, rumors of dragons (really Malfoy?), and nighttime trips to find dead unicorns in a dangerous magical forest, maybe it was best that Harry was in Slytherin. Seemed like the safer choice, despite his annoying fellow first-years. Harry wouldn't have survived that sort of nonsense without something like a ring of invisibility – and those sorts of things seemed thin on the ground in real life, even for Gryffindors. Slytherin students like Harry had their own worries though, more political and personal ones.

Luckily, Harry's Head of House seemed willing to remain neutral. He clearly favored Malfoy in class – the honey-mouthed little git was always perfect around the Professor – but he didn't take sides at least. And sometimes, he looked at Harry oddly. But then, he looked at most of his students oddly, so maybe it was nothing. Harry's scores in his class were, of course, just about perfect – so it wasn't that. Nothing less was acceptable, according to Professor Snape, if Harry wanted to be allowed the chance to try out next year for the Seeker position. Malfoy immediately said he was going to be Seeker, and had started in about how he would write his father, but the Professor had told them it was up to the Captain and they'd both have to go to tryouts. Tough, but fair. Malfoy wasn't half the rider Harry was, though.

The last week of classes, "Professor" Quirrell disappeared. Maybe that huge, three-headed dog the older students had all snuck in to see had eaten the foul-smelling mumbler. Good riddance. Harry's scar had stopped hurting around that time, thankfully before his aspirin supply failed, so maybe he was allergic to the man's garlic aftershave or something. Whatever. Another year of that and Harry would have offed the man himself, with the cheerful help of three-quarters the school – other teachers included.

Slytherin won the House and the Quidditch cup, of course, as was proper. Seven years in a row now? The train ride home was nice, and Harry's pockets were now full of supposedly-legal magical devices to frigh- err, show off to his oh-so-loving, and helpfully excused from the Statue of Secrecy, Muggle relatives. He really owed Nott and Greengrass, even though he technically paid dearly in gold sneaked out of Gringotts for every item. It was going to be the best summer yet.

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_**N****ote:** Wanted to get the story itself out there before I started to babble. Trying this as a new way to do things. Hope it works._

_I wrote this one-shot to try to show how the start of a lightly AU story really doesn't need to run through canon events to be interesting. Rather than take up the first 100k words in a fanfic, and all the author's enthusiasm, the first few years should quickly set the stage for when things really start running off the rails. Because that is what is actually interesting in AU fanfic – not the things that remain the same, but the things which are different._

_This is my version of a Slytherin Harry story's first chapter and entire first year. I may write more on this some day, but for now I consider it a finished one-shot. Insert your own ideas about what changed on the train ride and Sorting. It really doesn't matter to the plot yet, so (and this is key) I didn't write it. If and when it does matter, those parts will be referred back to or featured in a brief flashback._

_I see the full story based on this idea being about 80k, mostly years 4-7, and be either pure Harry/Slytherin ambition, Harry/OC, or Harry/Hermione. Hell, I might make it a sappy, genuine harem fic (at last!) just to be different._

_But not anytime soon. I'm finishing the first year of Harry Potter and the Witch Queen first. Promise. And maybe Secret Treasures of the Uchiha, too. After NaNoWriMo '14, that is._


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